A Hidden Truth
by Keirou
Summary: What if Hughes didn't die? What if he managed to think fast enough to come up with a contingency plan while running to that phone booth? What if he managed to (mostly) dodge that bullet? Because I don't like it when my favorite character dies, and I had a brainwave while at work one day, I present to you an AU possibility.


_It was a dark night, clouds covering the stars, as Maes Hughes ran through the streets of Central. He had to get to a phone, had to call Roy, had to tell him what he'd just found out. But calling from a pay phone had its drawbacks; namely, the need for a security code. He didn't have time for that shit right now, but he couldn't get through any other way. And then he had to wait until someone felt like telling Roy about the call...but there was someone behind him. He heard the telltale sound of a gun being drawn, turned..._

_Perhaps a minute later a gunshot echoed through the still night air._

He half-opened his eyes perhaps a minute after the bullet had pierced his chest, scanning the near vicinity through his eyelashes before daring to breathe again. He'd heard Roy's voice finally answer as he'd lain there, ostensibly dead, heard his attacker hang the telephone up. Now he had to make it look real, and he didn't have much time.

Pushing himself up he stepped as carefully as he could out of the booth, avoiding the blood that had already pooled beneath him and pressed a hand over the wound. Moving as quickly as he dared he made a beeline for one of the nearby buildings, using an unbloodied piece of his uniform to open the door, and staggered up the stairs inside.

His vision was blurring by the time he'd made it to the third floor and found the fifth door along. A quick knock had the door answered by a shorter man, his skin more tan than a typical Amestrian's and his eyes carrying a slight slant that marked him to any who recognized it as at least part Xingese. "Maes...! What the..."

"No time." He pushed past the man and into the small apartment. "I need your help, Martin. I'll explain later, just listen now."

Martin Abbey stared at his old classmate, darting to support him as the man wavered on his feet. "Maes, sit down, you're hurt!"

"Shot. Just missed anything vital." His voice was tight with pain, hazel eyes hard and cold with determination.

"What the hell happened..." Martin busied himself with the cabinet against one wall, bringing out bandages and some other equipment.

Hughes just watched, keeping pressure on his wound. That was the reason he'd chosen that phone box, the reason he'd come to this apartment. It wasn't a well-known fact, but Dr. Martin Abbey was a practitioner of alkahestry, an art he'd learned from his Xingese mother. And right now, he was Hughes' only hope.

He sat still as Martin made his necessary preparations, grateful that the man worked quietly without more questions. Once all was ready, it was but the work of a moment for Martin to practice his art and the wounds in Hughes' shoulder and chest to close. Taking a deep breath, the lieutenant colonel rose to his feet and faced his old friend.

"Am I going to get told what is going on?" Martin asked, looking concerned. "Who shot you?"

"Long story." Hughes met his eyes, deadly serious. "I need you to alter a body."

"What?!"

"I don't have time to explain, Martin. It has to look like me, and it has to have the wounds you just healed."

"Maes-"

"There's no time!" Hughes barked, making Martin jump slightly. "The one who tried to kill me thinks they succeeded. They have to keep thinking that."

Martin's eyes widened. "But..."

"You're the only one I know who can do this."

"...where are we going to get the materials...?"

"Slaughterhouse. There's one not too far away."

Martin sighed. "What are you going to do afterwards?"

"Disappear." The word came so quickly, so clipped, that Martin's eyes widened.

"But...Gracia-"

"I know!" Hughes cut him off, a flash of pain in his eyes. "I know...but she can't know. Neither can Mustang. _No one_, Martin."

"Maes..."

"They think I'm dead. If we let them keep that belief, I can go anywhere. But it has. To look. Real."

"Who is they?!"

"I don't know yet." Hughes' eyes hardened. "But I intend to find out."

"But why-"

"We don't have time for this! I promise I'll explain one day, just please, Martin...you're the only one I can ask."

Martin sighed, worry and concern very plain in his dark eyes, but he nodded. "Let's get to work, then." Turning, he moved to bring a change of clothes, on the small side given their difference in heights but Hughes was in no position to be picky. He changed quickly and the pair hurried outside and down the street, moving as cautiously as possible towards the slaughterhouse.

Martin waited outside as Hughes slipped in, returning a minute or so later with a pig carcass. Now moving slower, the need for caution rising with each passing moment, Hughes led the way to the phone booth. Fortunately it didn't seem as though anyone had noticed the shot or that anything had happened yet. Setting the carcass down, Hughes stepped back and nodded to Martin before fading into the shadows to keep watch.

Martin set down the bag he'd brought from his apartment and set to work. This was more complex than anything he'd done before, but he was determined to do the job to the best of his ability. It took a few minutes to set up the necessary circle, but once done it was a matter of moments before the pig carcass became a copy of the man now standing just a few feet away, the only differences being a pair of injuries to shoulder and chest.

"...Eerie." Hughes commented softly. Martin nodded, shivering slightly, and Hughes stepped forward to complete the illusion, dressing the copy in his own bloodstained uniform. Then it was merely a matter of placement, the two men careful to leave as few traces as possible. The final touch was placed as Hughes put his own glasses on the double's face, then stepped back.

Martin glanced at him. "...Don't you need those?"

"I can get others." Hughes turned to go. "Remember, no one-"

"-can know, I got it," Martin sighed. "Maes...be careful?"

"...I owe you, Martin." With those words, Maes Hughes walked away, vanishing into the shadows and leaving the scene of his own death.

Martin looked after him for a moment, then glanced at the double and shuddered again, cleaning up what evidence had been left and grabbing his things before hurrying back home.

_The body was discovered early the next morning, with the official announcement made later that day. Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes had been murdered._


End file.
